Wilted Roses
by Shadowed Horizon
Summary: I was jealous of Isabella Swan. Not because Edward wanted her and not me initially – but because I knew that she had had a soul. I was jealous of the wholeness that she was throwing away – because that was all that I wanted.
1. The Present

A scream came from the back of the huge house. The sound bounced around the walls, dissipating slightly before reaching my ears. It would have still been audible to a human anyway, but because of my vampire hearing, it was like I was standing next to the creature in pain.

I still remembered the agony of my own transformation, all the more painful because I had already been dying, because I had had no morphine to help with the pain, and lastly, because it was far from what I had wanted – still didn't want.

This life … I hated it. Everyday there were deaths – some natural, some freak accidents, some planned. But none were mine. None of these endings were mine. Most people would think that I was insane for my longing to join those resting beneath the gravestones. What did it matter? I was already dead. But my funeral had been almost a century ago. I hadn't been able to attend it – to see my parents, friends one last time before leaving. I was too new to the life, too strong to be restrained. I had been transported away right after I'd transformed.

I wanted blood. I wanted to have it flowing through me. I hoped, foolishly, that maybe if I drank enough human blood, my dead heart could begin pumping again. I could be alive; I could live a _natural _life…Impossible. It had hurt Carlisle to put me through pain. I knew that I was being too selfish to acknowledge his attempts to save me, but I longed for death in another way…

Bella screamed again. I wondered why; was the morphine ineffective against the venom? I knew that Edward was probably watching her with agony, probably wanting to take the pain in some way. The fool…if he so cared about Bella, he wouldn't let her become what she was going to be! Not even if Esme, Carlisle, Alice, Jasper and Emmett wanted her to change. Not even if it would mean another immortal member of our family, Emmett's new source of entertainment, Edward's bride forever, Alice's best friend and another daughter for Esme and Carlisle...because we would have to leave once again.

I was happy for Edward; I really was. It was usually buried in my head somewhere, under all the bitterness of my musings, my love and lust for Emmett, and my shallowness. I knew that Edward hated it when I thought myself. But it wasn't my fault. Fate dictated that my parents were who they were; Mother Nature decided that the good-looking genes would be mine. Then evil and good came along and mashed together a monster that naturally (or unnaturally) enhanced looks in the creation – a vampire.

An immortal, eerily beautiful, inhumanly strong, extraordinarily fast vampire…outliving every friend, every relative that I'd ever known.

Who would make that choice willingly? Bella doesn't seem to understand the consequences. Yes, she would be impossibly graceful, strong and beautiful. Yes, she would be by Edward's side for all eternity. Yes, she would always be with us. But we all knew her friendship with Jacob Black and the rest of the Quileute tribe. She would have to leave them behind forever. And Charlie, Renee and her human friends – she was willing to give them all up for a single person. Could she live with that? Could she live every day of forever knowing that if Edward left her, there would be no one else to comfort her? Every single day of forever…

I sighed. Emmett, hearing the sigh, plopped down onto the loveseat beside me and wrapped his arm around my shoulder. I leaned into him and closed my eyes. Emmett said nothing; he had realized what my brooding was about this time. He let me be. Edward was the only one who understood – and Bella, because I had pleaded to her…

I was jealous of Isabella Swan. Not because Edward wanted _her_ and not _me_ initially – but because I knew that she had had a soul. I was jealous of the wholeness that she was throwing away – because that was all that I wanted.

* * *

**A/N**

I reread what I had on my computer and decided that I actually liked it, even though it's been years since I ever liked Twilight. So I'm updating this, or will try to when I have time.

As a side note, though, this will not be a historically accurate fic. It basically follows what we know of Rosalie already: Royce, the rape and Emmett. I don't know how people acted in the early 20th century (specifically - I know it was way more conservative, but I'm not sure how people would have asked to marry), so I'm kind of making it up. I could go and research it, but this is just for fun and I'm not interested enough to look it up. If anyone reading wants to tell me the particulars, go ahead, I'll try to use your suggestions in later chapters.

And that's about it...

Peace out, y'all.

S.H.


	2. The Past: Pretty

1915. Rochester, New York.

I was born as the countries on the other side of the ocean sought to destroy each other. I didn't know, of course. Even if I had been older, my parents would have never told me. They would have deemed it inappropriate for a young girl to know the affairs of the world. Besides, what would I have cared? My country was not involved for much of the war, and if it affected my life at all, I didn't learn that until I did my own research years later. For the most part, my parents really sheltered and pampered me.

My father was a banker and my mother was a housewife. We lived in a townhouse – me, my parents, and my two little brothers. (I don't know what became of them, I haven't even thought of them in years. I was always trying to draw others' attention to me – what did I care what my brothers thought? I guess that's why my memories of them are so much blurrier than my other memories.) We lived quite nicely off my father's income. He was rather high up in the bank's hierarchy and the manager and owner, Royce King, liked him. So we were probably better off than most of the workers there. I took this for granted, especially the fact that Mr King would visit frequently. I never really knew why. In fact, I didn't know much of anything. But I thought at the time that everyone's superior was friendly with their workers. It wasn't until I casually brought up the fact with my good friend Vera that I realised we were actually very well off. I didn't feel odd about the realisation. In fact, it really just fuelled my growing ego. We, the Hales, were quite on top of the world.

We really looked the part too. My father was not handsome, but he had a kind face. My mother was pretty. My brothers were growing to be good looking, and they would one day find themselves good brides. I hope they did. But at the time, I foolishly thought that no bride they could find would match me, in all my splendour and glory. After all, who could hope to match my features – my long, wavy, lustrous blonde hair; my deep blue, almost violet eyes; my pale, smooth skin; a very fine dusting of freckles across my nose – all in all, I thought I was fairer than the princesses in the fairy tales I'd heard.

Apparently, so did many of the men I saw. Whenever I went with my mother to buy whatever we needed around the house, I noticed how many men littered the streets. Working men, homeless men, young men, old men – it didn't matter. It seemed that wherever I went, I turned heads. I attracted many stares, both lecherous and admiring. Far from making me shy, they simply inflated my ever-growing ego. _I_ was the most beautiful. _I_ was the one they all wanted. And yet, they could only dream of having me by their sides. It gave me a feeling of power, that I was controlling these men's fantasies. I was sure I'd have my fairy tale ending with a handsome prince (the most handsome of all) would carry me away to some grand palace. Self-absorbed? Absolutely.

My mother and father did not do anything to squash my feelings of superiority. In fact, I doubt they even knew how good I felt inside. They were always pressing me to try on new things, from dresses to bows. I was like a collector's doll. Gorgeous, rare...my parents hoped that I would attract a good husband. So they dressed me up in as extravagant clothes as they could find. The smallest of tasks, like running down the bakery across the street to grab a loaf of bread, meant that I wore a beautiful dress, my prettiest shoes, and a bow in my thoroughly brushed hair. My parents certainly received many requests for my hand in marriage as I grew older. I'm sure they would have received more if the men on the streets were of higher class. Even so, my parents were constantly turning away men they felt weren't suitable matches. Sometimes I would feel a twinge of worry when a particularly handsome and rich man was turned away. Did my parents not care about me? Surely this man would provide well. But my fear was always dispelled when I heard another unfamiliar male voice at the door.

Then came the day my father said he would be having a very important day at the bank – the manager, Royce King, would be inspecting the bank. Though he knew us personally, Mr King only knew my father well outside of work. This was the day my father would be able to prove that he deserved a promotion, that he was better than everyone else. I wasn't worried, of course. Daddy would bring home more and more money for even better dresses. So self-centred...

My father left for work bright and early the next day. He seemed in such a rush that he left his lunch behind (maybe they planned this beforehand?). Mother called me down in an urgent voice. She handed me my best dress – white organza – told me to get changed and give my father his lunch at the bank. I was used to them dressing me up for the smallest of occasions, so wearing my prettiest dress didn't seem at all odd to me. When I'd finished making myself presentable, my mother put a small violet in my hair and sent me on my way. I walked down to the bank, head high, proudly acknowledging the stares once again. The staring didn't stop when I stepped inside the bank: they intensified. I found my father, handed him his lunch, kissed his cheek and walked home. The rest of the day proceeded normally. It wasn't until the next evening that Mr King visited again. This time, however, he brought his son, Royce King II.


	3. The Past: Courtship

He smiled charmingly, grey eyes twinkling at me from under his fair hair. "I knew that angels existed, but I hadn't realised that there was one in our town."

I blushed.

He took my hand and kissed it. "Miss Rosalie, am I right? I've forgotten my manners. Royce King II, at your service."

I made a small curtsy. "Please, don't trouble yourself. Take a seat." I gestured to the comfortable couches, sitting across from him. "Your father's not brought you here before."

"No, I usually don't bother with my father's business. He insisted I come today to look at his star employee." Royce had a lovely voice. It soothed me.

I blushed again. "Really? I'm sure Father will be pleased to hear that. He was ever so worried about yesterday's inspection." We talked all the while, feeling quite at ease with each other.

Royce King laid a hand on his son's shoulder. We both stopped talking to look up. "Sorry son, Rosalie; we'll be heading home now, his mother will worry."

Royce laughed. "No Father, you're worried your dinner will get cold." The two left shortly after.

Mother and Father turned to look at me, smiling as though they shared a secret. Mother spoke first. "Rosalie, dear, how did you find Royce's son?"

"Oh, he's such a wonderful boy. He's charming and witty, and oh, Mother, isn't he just handsome?" I relayed our entire conversation to my parents, who looked pleased.

Father said, "I think he'll be coming over more then, Rosalie, wouldn't that be nice?" I beamed at him.

So began my courtship with Royce King II. It was perfect. He escorted me to balls, around the town, he presented me with beautiful bouquets of the most gorgeous flowers...

"Rosalie, dear, come down!" Mother yelled up the stairs.

"Yes, Mother, I'll be down shortly!" I was frustrated. One of my pins was broken, and my hair simply would not stay up. I was sure there was another pin somewhere in my room, but there were now so many vases that whatever pin I might have was concealed. I could leave my hair down, of course, but the dress I was wearing simply begged for an elegant hairdo.

"Rosalie Hale!"

I sighed and swept out of my room. I would have to leave my hair down today. I gave the maid my broken pin as I passed her. She bowed and hurried to dispose of it. As I descended the staircase, I saw Royce in the dark suit I liked so much, holding his hands behind his back. I suppressed a smile. Royce always brought me extravagant bouquets of roses; he knew how much I adored those royal-looking blossoms. I reached the bottom of the stairs and Royce slipped an arm around my waist. "Hello, beautiful."

I gazed into his light grey eyes, wrapping my arms around his waist. "Hello yourself." My hands touched the petals behind his back. "What's this?"

Royce drew back a little, laughing. "Oh my dear Rose, are you being greedy again? Close your eyes." When I opened my eyes again, I saw before me not roses, but violets. I accepted them happily, inhaling their sweet fragrance. "I'm glad you like them, Rose. I thought maybe I'd surprise you, change it up a bit. They're the same colour as your eyes."

Once I'd put the flowers away, clearing away some old roses to make room, we set out for the local park. Royce had brought along a picnic too, and we sat in the great green expanse, whiling away the afternoon.

"...so that was why I was so late – "

"Oh Rose, why would you bother? Hair up, hair down, you're still my gorgeous Rosalie."

"Mm, which baker did you buy this from?"

"My mother made it, actually, you like it?"

"It's absolutely fantastic!"

"Mother will be glad to hear it. She'll get Father to send it along."

"Oh thank you, I know Mother would be glad not to go the baker's so often."

"Have you been to the bank much?"

"Only to see Father sometimes."

"I'd be glad to show you around."

"Mm.."

"No?"

"I know very little of business."

"Ah. In that case, would you like to know what your father does there?"

"Does he make the money?"

"Oh Rose, you _are_ silly."

So Royce told me all about the bank, how he was going to take over his father's position...I was much too entranced by the way his eyes lit up, how his voice rose and fell –

" – and I'll be making so much in a few months – "

"A few months, dear? Is your father retiring so soon? He's not ill, is he?"

Royce smiled. "No, Rose, he wants me to take over now so that by the time I marry, I'll be able to give my beautiful wife all that she wants. "

I froze. "Oh? And do you plan on getting married soon?" My voice had suddenly become stiffer.

Noticing the change, Royce frowned and took my hand. "I hadn't meant to startle you, darling. I suppose I should have made myself clearer." He shifted so that he was kneeling in front of me, still holding my hand. "My father wants to give me his position now, so that I'll be able to provide you with the very best."

My heart stopped, my jaw dropped, and my hand flew up to cover it. Just because I was shocked - had I heard right? – I had to be lady-like.

"Rosalie Hale, will you marry me?" Royce had pulled out a small, velvet box and opened it to reveal the most beautiful diamond ring ever. It sparkled in the dying sunlight, throwing a small rainbow on my hand. I stared at the ring, at Royce, suddenly noticing how they were both blurry. Royce reached up and brushed my tears away.

"Yes, dear, of course!" With that breathless exclamation, Royce slipped the ring onto my proffered finger. The first thing I noticed was how cold the silver band was, and I gasped. But Royce took it to mean that I was blown away by its beauty and didn't comment.


End file.
